Draco's Queen
by behindthatcover
Summary: Gryffindor and Slytherin are rival houses in 1500s England. So what happens when a seemingly perfect match ends up as a perfect disaster? What happens when Queen Hermione and Duke Draco, despite all odds, fall in love? And what part will Tom Riddle, the lover of Duchess Bellatrix, play in the deadly fight for the throne? Read on to find out.
1. The queen's secret

**This fanfic is inspired by the war of the roses but instead of the houses of York and Lancaster we have the Slytherin and Gryffindor house. And instead of Edward IV, Henry VI etc., we have Draco Malfoy, Bellatrix Black, Hermione Granger etc. Written from Bellatrix's, Draco's and Hermione's point of view. (Side note: In this story, Bellatrix is around Draco's age and is NOT his aunt)**

* * *

**The wedding day of Draco and Bellatrix**

**Bellatrix**

"You look troubled, mistress Bellatrix," one of my maids remark as she laced the stays on my new gown. "Begging your pardon mistress, but you're going to be married to the heir of the Malfoy family, the oldest and richest family of the Slytherin house, shouldn't you be all bright and happy-" she stops abruptly as I hold out my hand to silence her.

"You may go," I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. How dare she make such an impertinent remark in my presence, I fume. I am going to be a duchess in a matter of mere hours at the tender age of fifteen.

But truth be told, I do not want this marriage, not in the slightest bit. Draco could be the greatest and handsomest duke that had ever lived, and I still would not want him as my husband.

"It's a great honour for us Blacks. Thank God you caught the eye of the young Draco Malfoy. We will be one of the most powerful families in England now!" my mother's triumphant voice crowed in my head again as it did that night she broke the news of my marriage to me. "Maybe we can even match the power of our rivals the house of Gryffindor." she had added in a whisper.

I had tried to protest, but my parents would not hear anything of it. After all, I was just a pawn on their chessboard, placed where I would be of the greatest advantage to them.

But my heart has already been taken. I dare not mention it to anyone, not even my closet ladies, but I am in love with a stable boy. His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he has pledged his eternal love to me.

We had harboured hopes of running away one day, the young, foolish stable boy and the young, foolish girl that I was. But my upcoming marriage served as a cruel reminder that my placing in society was too high for Tom to reach, and if I tried to lower myself to him, I would only end up in the mud, dishonoured and stripped of my inheritance.

"Your Grace," I hear one of my maids call out outside my rooms, "A persistent stable boy insists on coming into your presence. Shall I let him in?" the disdain is pronounced in her voice.

A stable boy! I feel my heart quicken with excitement. It can only mean that Tom had come to see me. "Let him in," I call. To my embarrassment, I hear a quaver in my voice.

The double doors to my chambers fling open and in he walks, head bowed low.

How laughable all our whispered conversations, stolen kisses and sweet nothings now seemed! I was to be married into one of the most powerful families of the Slytherin house, and Tom Marvolo Riddle would forever be a lowly servant.

But it does not mean that I did not still love him with all my heart and soul. Even in his torn breeches and stained shirt, I still desire him.

"Your Grace," Tom begins awkwardly, bowing low to me.

Call me Bellatrix! I want to scream. He had done so in the past. Why did my upcoming marriage have to change even that?

"I came to...apologise for...for what happened in the past between us..." Tom stammers, staring blankly at the floor. "I should have...known my place. Please forgive me."

"Tom!" the strangled word escapes my lips. How could it be? How could we have turned into complete strangers so abruptly?

We stand opposite each other, not talking. I have so much I want to tell Tom, but have no idea how to form the words. Tears pour down my face as we stand uncomfortably, looking at everything around us except for each other.

* * *

**Draco**

That beautiful, dark-haired vixen will finally be mine today! In just a few hours' time the woman of my dreams will finally be my wife, my darling duchess!

This knowledge makes me spring up from my bed the moment I awake, cheeks flushed red with boyish excitement.

Ever since I saw Bellatrix at the court of the young Queen Hermione of the house of Gryffindor, I have fancied her. The way her dark hair swayed under her French hood when she danced with the young men at court captivated me and I could not take my eyes off her perfectly shaped lips painted a dark, ravishing red. Finally, I could call this beauty mine!

"The gowns and jewels I ordered are ready?" I question the servant nearest to me.

"Yes, Your Grace," he smiles.

"Good, good, everything has to be perfect for my wife!" I cry out in delight.

I have ordered exquisite gowns and rare jewels for Bellatrix. Nothing but the best for her will do! The gowns are in various shades of green and embroidered with silver thread. The diamonds and emeralds trimming the hems cost a fortune, but it is money well spent.

Our house at Chatsworth is in a flurry of activity, the last minute preparations for the new addition to our household. I personally inspect the rooms of Bellatrix. "Perfect," I pronounce. Her rooms are almost as grand as mine, as befitting a soon-to-be duchess.

Like a young, impatient boy, I cannot sit still all morning. "Get a grip on yourself, Draco," I chide myself. "You are one of the greatest lords of England, surely you can stop squirming like a bored schoolboy."

But I cannot, all I can think of is my wedding and my gorgeous wife-to-be.

Finally, at long last, we are ready to mount our horses to make our way to the chapel where I am to marry Bellatrix. As I kneel for my mother's blessing, I hear her murmur, "Treat your wife well Draco, and remember that this marriage is to strengthen the ties between the strongest families of the Slytherin house."

"Yes, lady mother," I reply impatiently. I barely hear her words.

* * *

**Hermione**

I am sitting under my cloth of estate in my presence chamber when my favourite Lady in waiting, Lady Ginny, approaches me.

"Your Grace," she begins hesitantly. "The youngest Slytherin duke has married the heiress of the Black family. I fear an alliance between our enemies will make us more vulnerable," she says.

I try to keep my face impassive, but this marriage reawakens all my fears that the house of Slytherin will rise up against my house, the house of Gryffindor, and defeat us all and take my crown. After all, I am still a young queen newly come to the throne after a hard fought battle and my crown is not yet secure on my head.

Inside my head, the gears of my brain are turning, and in no time at all, I have a reply for Lady Ginny.

"Invite them to court," I say, "Convey my warmest greetings to the couple. Having them at court will keep down close and make it easier for us to keep watch of their doings."

"What a brilliant decision, Your Grace," one of my earls says, stepping towards me, an oily smile plastered on his face.

I close my eyes briefly. I know what is coming and I am sick and tired of hearing it.

"Perhaps Your Grace would like to complement your good decisions with that of a man, a husband, who no doubt will be able to advice you on matters for the greater good of England, and the house of Gryffindor as well." my earl says.

Around him, my courtiers nod their heads in assent. I know that deep down, they fear my ability to rule. After all, I am just sixteen, and a girl, and that alone in their eyes make me unworthy to make important decisions. They want me to marry one of my dukes, or even a foreign prince, and make him King consort.

I grit my teeth. "Lords and ladies," I begin, raising my voice so everyone in my presence chamber can hear me. "If any of you doubt my ability to rule, come forward now. By suggesting that I take a husband, are you implying that I cannot rule on my own? My parents died fighting against the House of Slytherin to put me on my throne, surely you can allow me to rule of my own accord?"

My lords and ladies shift uncomfortably. Of course no one dares admit that they doubt my ability.

But I have reasons why I do not want to marry, reasons that I do not even reveal to Lady Ginny. Reasons that will cause a great scandal among my people, perhaps the greatest that England has ever known.

Ever since I have set eyes on the young Duke of the house of Slytherin, the newly married Duke, I have felt something that I swear I have never felt before.

Poetry is written and songs are sung about love, but I have never truly known what is love. Not until that day I saw the Slytherin duke at court for the Christmas celebrations. His name is Draco, I think.

His silky white-blond hair, his sky blue eyes, his perfectly chiseled features, and that delicious mysterious air around him! Whenever I think of him, I feel a rising blush in my cheeks and my heartbeat quickens.

I know it is wrong to love a member of the house of Slytherin, it goes against the very morals of a member of the house of Gryffindor, let alone the head, but I cannot help myself, I simply cannot. I am becoming a slave to my feelings. He is irresistible, simply irresistible.

Now Draco Malfoy is a married man, and that makes him, if possible, even more unreachable for me.

I turn to Lady Ginny. "Summon the newly married duke and duchess to court immediately."

* * *

_**A few weeks later**_

* * *

**Bellatrix**

I hate this marriage. I hate Chatsworth House. Yes, I will admit that the duke treats me well, but he is so attentive to the point that he makes me want to scream at him. Every time I leave the room to use the chamber pot, he will inquire as to where I am heading. Every single time. He will not even let me out of his sight if he can help it, not even to take a solitary walk in the gardens.

I think my new mother-in-law hates me. She makes the most degrading remarks for any small mistake I make. Especially when I'm sewing. She loves to sneer at my untidy stitches.

My servants here are lazy and treat me with disregard. I know they follow the example of my mother-in-law and spread all sorts of nasty rumours about me.

Every night, I cry myself to sleep. Tom, oh Tom, I think sadly, we should have seized our chance to run away together. Now I am a miserable bride held almost like a captive in this depressing place.

* * *

**Draco**

We receive a summon to court, my new bride and I. I stare at it, my brows creased in worry. Why would the queen suddenly command our presence?

Suddenly, my father walks into the room and leans against the fireplace, his face grave.

"The lords of Slytherin are planning a rebellion against the house of Gryffindor. They think that your marriage is the alliance that provides the strength among us that we need for victory. With this unity, they are certain that the house of Slytherin can, and will rule England again." he says, eyes ablaze with passion at the very thought.

I press my eyes shut. I am sick of the endless wars between our houses, sick of the endless deaths. But the war between the house of Gryffindor and Slytherin goes on and on and on. Even with an anointed queen on the throne, the rival lords can still come up with a nonsensical reason to justify overthrowing her.

I cannot ride out at the head of my army, under the Slytherin banner. I know I may seem cowardly to shy away from battle, but I have a new wife, I am a newly married man. What if, God forbid, I die fighting, what will happen to my wife? She does not love me, that much I know. In her presence, I am treated with cool disdain, at the very best. I will be a failure of a man if I die before my wife, my darling wife, has even shown a single gesture of affection to me.

"Your job, son," my father says. This is when I know that the situation is indeed serious. My father never calls me "son" unless he wants to ask a big favour of me. Bracing myself for the worst, I force myself to listen to his words.

"When you go to the court of the queen, observe her habits carefully. For instance, what time does she go for mass, what time does she break her fast, what time does she withdraw for the night? Who are her chief advisors? And try to bribe her messengers to let you take her letters." My father's says to me in a commanding tone.

I nod, concealing the turmoil of my mind under a smooth mask that I force my features to form.

"Of course father," I say, the dutiful son that I appear to be.

**That's it for Chapter 1! So how do you all think the story's progressing so far?**


	2. Change of plans

**Chapter 3! Will Draco ever fall in love with Hermione? She's so hopelessly besotted with him that she goes so far as to invite him to go on the Summer Progress with her Gryffindor court...**

* * *

**Hermione**

The Slytherin duke and duchess are due at court today. My heart gives a tiny betraying leap of joy, replaced almost immediately by a twinge of guilt.

They are our enemies, our greatest enemies, their house threatens the peace of England, I try to warn myself sternly. I should not feel anything but contempt for them.

I dress myself in heavy gold and red brocade in an effort to demonstrate the power and majesty of my house. The sleeves of my gown are sewn with countless blood red rubies the size of thumbnails and I choose my thickest gold chain to adorn my neck.

"You look beautiful, Your Grace, no doubt the most beautiful woman in England," Lady Ginny tells me almost reverently as I glance at myself in my mirror. She helps me to pin my French hood onto my hopelessly bushy, untidy brown hair.

"The members of the House of Slytherin are here, Your Grace," one of my ladies-in-waiting says as she opens the door to my bedroom a fraction of an inch.

I take a deep breath, composing myself. My ladies-in-waiting line up behind me and the guards throw open the doors of my bedroom and I step out into my presence chamber, which is packed with courtiers. I spot the Slytherin duke and duchess standing near a window overlooking a maze, trying to conceal their nervousness.

My breath catches in my throat when I see the duke. He looks even more handsome than when I last saw him. Besides him, his wife has a disdainful sneer on her face. A sudden surge of jealously catches me off-guard, but I quickly smooth my features into an expressionless mask.

Sitting myself on my throne, I say clearly, "Lords and ladies, you may rise." I motion for the newly married couple to come closer to me and I extend my hand for the duke to kiss. To my embarrassment, I find that my hand is trembling slightly. His lips brush my hand gently, and as he looks up for a split second, our eyes meet and the intensity of his gaze makes my heart skip a beat. If only he were of the house of Gryffindor, I catch myself thinking wistfully. Then he would already be my husband.

"I offer my warmest congratulations on your marriage, my lord and lady Malfoy," I say formally. "I am always pleased to receive news of a union," I continue somewhat sarcastically. "And I hope that your marriage will be blessed with joy and happiness."

"We thank you for your kind words, Your Grace," the duke says stiffly. Besides him, the duchess' face seems to be carved from stone.

"We," I motion to my lords and ladies, "would like to invite both of you to go on the Summer Progress with us. And I would be delighted if the duchess would accept a position in my household as lady-in-waiting." I have to raise my voice over the sudden outbreak of raised tones of protest among my courtiers.

It has previously been unheard of for members of the opposing house to join us on our Summer Progress or even serve the reigning monarch. It has been the tradition to allow the opposing house some land in the north of England to rule, and there they will stay, almost in exile, unless summoned to court on a rare occasion.

I have broken tradition and there are scandalised looks plastered on the faces of my courtiers, but I do not mind. Just one summer with Draco Malfoy, I tell myself, just one summer. And by placing his wife in my service, I have just ensured the duke's regular visits to court.

I gaze down from my throne at the outraged expressions on the faces of the duke and duchess. They know they have no choice but to obey me, the Queen of England.

Later, when the duke and duchess have retreated from my presence, I reassure my indignant courtiers that my only motive for keeping them so near at hand is to spy on them and their household. I hope I manage to convince them.

* * *

**Bellatrix**

I storm out of the queen's presence chamber, my face like thunder.

"It's a great honour, dear wife," my husband tries to reassure me though his face is filled with shock. "Lady-in-waiting to the queen-"he attempts to continue but I cut him off with the most ferocious glare I dare muster.

"We should refuse the queen," I choke out. "How dare she offer me a place in that household of hers! I will be surrounded by enemies, our enemies, and I will be serving the greatest enemy, the queen herself! How dare...how dare she!" my words are stuck in my throat and I am unable to continue.

"Wife, calm yourself down, the servants are staring!" my husband says nervously as he tries to keep up with my pace as I walk down the corridor in furious strides, hardly caring where I'm heading.

I hardly pay any heed to his words and I quicken my pace, not caring where I am heading.

"Do you even care that I will be surrounded by people that hate me with a vengeance and who I hate in turn? Why don't you do anything? Aren't you a duke?" Rage clouds the logic in my mind and I spin around to face my husband. My useless husband, I think inwardly.

In one fluid motion, my husband holds my arms to my sides and pins me to the stone wall.

"Let me go!" I cry out. I try to struggle free, but my husband is too strong for me.

"Listen to me, dear," he begins. His grip is strong but his voice is gentle. "There is indeed no way we can refuse her. The queen is the queen, her word is law, her every whim and fancy a command. She wants you as her lady-in-waiting and so we will have to obey her."

"But you are a duke..." I say pitifully, but even to my own ears I sound weak. "Surely there is a way."

"No, wife, there is no way." my husband sighs and lets go of my arms. He cups my face gently in both of his palms. It is a tender gesture, but I stiffen at his touch. The last man who had cupped my face in his palms was Tom and by my husband's gesture, I am unwittingly reminded of him.

I look at my husband with cold eyes. "I had no idea that even a duke is so powerless," I say.

I feel a sort vindictive pleasure at the brief look of hurt that flashes across his eyes and so I continue, "And this duke will not even try to free his wife from the service of the enemy. Why, is he a coward? Even a lowly stable boy will stand up for the woman he loves."

At my cruel words, my husband lets his arms go limp at his sides and he looks like he has been slapped. But it is too late for me to take back my careless words. The damage has been done, I have wounded his pride.

Slowly, I back away from him. I know I have gone too far by comparing him to a stable boy.

"I shall take my leave of you, my lord husband," I say formally and curtsey to the duke who is as motionless as a stone gargoyle. Then I walk away, feeling his eyes bore into my retreating back.

**That's it for chapter 3! Do review, I'll continue writing as long as one person wants to continue reading :)**


	3. Surprise in the bread

**It's a shorter chapter this time :) **

**Poor Draco though...**

* * *

**On the Summer Progress**

**Draco**

Bellatrix and I order bolts of cloth for new clothes in stony silence. We supervise the loading of our goods into the carts in the same silence. When we finally set off after much delay due to the mysterious disappearance of some of the queen's gowns, we ride side by side and treat each other as though we are invisible.

The Gryffindor court is at the very height of their spirits. Every day, we go on hunting expeditions before breakfast and there is always the ring of merry laughter in the air. And every night, the dancing and masques are endless. Every day, a different themed masque is thought up and the queen, at the center of attention, draws the noblemen to her like honey draws bees. Everyone seems to be happy, everyone except Bellatrix and me.

Every now and then, when I am riding, I turn my head slightly to the left, hoping to catch my wife looking in my direction. But it is a vain, foolish hope. Bellatrix's eyes are always fixated in the distance, a scowl permanently plastered on her beautiful face. As the days go by, I start to think that Bellatrix and I will be known throughout the kingdom as the couple who cannot get along. Already, the Gryffindor courtiers are making jests of the coldness between us.

It pains me greatly that we have ended up like this. Ever since we were betrothed, I would daydream like some foolish child about my beloved almost every waking hour. I was a fool of a man to believe the troubadours singing about love. Now, I am so desperate for a scrap of love, or even affection from Bellatrix that I start to teach myself to enjoy her company, though it is as warm as a block of ice.

In just a month or so, I will be forced to leave her here, in this foreign, unfriendly court, and return to the Slytherin lands so far north. She is correct. I am a powerless, weak duke.

I long to reach out for Bellatrix and hold her hands in mine. "Believe me wife," I would say. "I only mean the best for us. If we attempt to defy the queen, we will be considered traitors."

When the tension between us truly becomes unbearable, I pull my horse close to Bellatrix's. "Take heart, wife," I whsiper. "If luck is on our side, you will not have to serve the Gryffindor queen for long."

Bellatrix glances a little at me, then looks away. As usual, she says nothing to me.

At dinner, as I am tearing my bread into pieces and dipping it into the soup, my fingers make contact with a piece of paper. I glance slightly around me, no one is paying me any attention, they are all busy flirting, I note with some satisfaction, and so I slide the note quickly from the bread and into my pocket, my heart thumping loudly in my chest the whole time.

Back in my rooms, I dismiss my servants as soon as I can without arousing suspicion.

The moment the doors to my chambers have been shut, I reach into my pocket and unfold the note quickly. It is from my father.

Before I have even read the first word of the letter, I know that the news contained inside must be dangerous. Why else would he want it baked in bread and delivered to me in my food?

_Draco,_

_I hope you and your wife are well. Your mother and I convey our warmest greetings. Watch your step, for the queen herself is. She has sent spies to act as your servants and every letter you send will almost certainly come into her possession._

_It is our wish, no, command, that you find out what I bid you do that day you left Chatsworth House._

_The Slytherin lords have mustered support from the North and East of England, and at our command, they will rise up. They believe that a sixteen year old girl on the throne of England is making a mockery of royalty. Furthermore, this girl is making no attempt to stregthen her place on the throne and puts us all at risk by refusing to marry and bear heirs. What will happen to England when she dies? She is an irresponsible queen and does not deserve to rule._

_Stay alert, trust only Crabbe and Goyle. They are the only two servants of yours who will die before betraying us. _

_The uprising will take place any day now, keep yourself and your wife safe._

_Your father_

* * *

**So how do you guys find the pace of the story? Too fast, too slow, or just right? Do let me know xx**

**And in the next chapter, Bellatrix has a rather huge surprise in store for her...**


	4. Breaking tradition

**The beginning of some Dramione, enjoy! **

**But at the same time, let's not forget about Bellatrix and Tom, they play a big part in this story ;)**

* * *

**Bellatrix**

Summer Progress. My grandmother used to sit me on her knee and tell me stories of the Summer Progress during the days that a Slytherin king and queen ruled England. I remember how her eyes would cloud over when she talked of the fun and excitement that she had had.

Now it is finally my turn to go on the Summer Progress, but everything is different. I feel no joy in my heart and I hardly even talk. The chatter and outbreak of laughter around me make me dig my fingernails into my riding reins and a scowl is a permanent fixture on my face. Every day is something like a fresh round of torture.

One day, (I have lost count of the days I have spent with people whom I cannot put up with) as we are riding with our huge entourage, I think I catch a glimpse of him. Tom Riddle.

Is it just a trick of my eyes? I wonder at first. It is a chance too good to be true, and I do not want to get my hopes up only to have them come crashing down on me again.

No, it is indeed Tom Riddle. I feel a kind of stirring in my chest that I have not felt for an unimaginably long time. I can feel my lips curving up into a smile, and the stiff bonds of my face are broken as I experience the first real joy I have felt since before my marriage.

His silky dark brown hair, the shape of his neck, his broad, strong shoulders, the muscles rippling in his calves...I remember them all so well.

But what is Tom Riddle, a stable boy belonging to the House of Slytherin doing on a horse, surrounded by adoring ladies from the House of Gryffindor? It makes no sense at all.

I ride alongside my husband in silence, trying my best to act like nothing is out of the ordinary even though waves of jealousy and disbelief are rippling through me.

That evening before dinner, I meet Tom on the staircase leading down to the Great Hall of one of the magnificent estates we are at.

"Your Grace," Tom says, avoiding my eyes. "I am glad to be able to make your honoured acquaintance again."

His formality pains my heart, but what can I do?

"I see you are well-liked among the Gryffindor ladies," I note icily. "Where has your loyalty to the House of Slytherin gone? Where is your pride of serving our house? Why do allow the the scum of the House of Gryffindor to enjoy your company?" I choke on my words.

I see a shadow of pain pass across Tom's features. "Bellatrix, dear Bellatrix," he murmurs softly. My raw emotions have at long last broken through his cold, formal mask.

"Bellatrix..." he says hesitantly. "I no longer serve the House of Slytherin..."

Words fail me in my moment of complete horror. No...no...I think repeatedly, clutching the wall behind me in my distress.

"I am sorry, so sorry..." Tom continues, the distress on my face mirrored in his.

"And why is that so?" When I finally find my voice again, I hear that is cold.

Tom flinches at the ice in my voice but he explains, "I am sorry to tell you this, Bellatrix, but my previous master, your father, treated me badly ever since you married the duke. I would be beaten and humiliated for any tiny mistake that I made. Sometimes, I would be beaten for no reason at all. It was a miserable existence, I would be covered in new wounds every day." Tom looks at me with pleading eyes, almost as though he is begging me to sympathise with his traitorous decision.

"Continue," I say, my voice hard.

Tom swallows. "Then one day, a lord from the Gryffindor court came to your father's estate on official business. He saw how unhappy I was and offered me a place at the queen's court as a servant in return for telling him all I knew about the affairs of your father's household. It was an offer too good to resist. The next thing I knew, I was at the queen's court. Her lords were deeply appreciative of what I told them, and to reward me, they advised the queen to place me high in her favour."

I am sure my horror is written all over my face. The Tom I knew would not betray the Slytherin house. I stare at the Tom in front of me, barely recognising him, my mind repeating the same words over and over again: no...no...no...

* * *

**Draco**

I am trying to find my way to the Great Hall, cursing fluently under my breath. I have yet to familiarise myself with the maze of corridors and staircases in this estate.

"Damn damn damn," I say angrily, balling my hands into fists. I will no doubt be late to dinner yet again and be forced to enter the Great Hall with the scornful eyes of the Gryffindor lords and ladies on me.

I close my eyes and take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. It will do me no good if anyone sees me in this state.

"Are you trying to find your way to the Great Hall, Duke Malfoy?" a sweet voice asks me, making my eyes spring open.

It takes me a moment to register who the owner of the voice is, and when I finally do, I sweep her a deep bow, feeling my cheeks reddening.

"Yes, Your Grace. The layout of this estate can be rather...confusing," I say to the Queen of England.

She gives a tinkly little laugh. "Ah, I understand. When I first came here, I used to get lost several times a day!" Her voice reminds me of warm honey, sweet and comforting.

I dare myself to look closely at her. Up close, I have to admit that she is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. She looks like an angel from a painting, above us mortal beings. I see a little hint of colour in her cheeks. Is it her rouge or a blush? I wonder.

I catch myself staring at her perfectly shaped lips and check myself.

She is the Queen of England, and of the House of Gryffindor, I tell myself sternly. And you are a married man, Draco.

"Would you be so kind as to escort me to the Great Hall, Duke Malfoy? I can show you the way." the queen says almost shyly.

Behind her, her ladies-in-waiting are making noises of disbelief but the queen ignores them. Her eyes are fixated on me, waiting for my response.

"Yes, yes of course, I would be honoured, Your Grace," I say quickly. And truly, I feel honoured and lucky.

The queen tucks her slender fingers into the crook of my elbow and we begin walking. There is a surprising intimacy between us as she guides me to the Great Hall.

We are both aware that we are going against the very tradition in England by walking side by side into the Great Hall. It has been unheard of for a rival lord to escort the queen anywhere.

But somehow, we have chosen to ignore that age-old tradition. The queen keeps up a string of chatter all the way to dinner and to my amazement, I find that I am enjoying her company immensely.

Our behaviour is wrong in every aspect, but right now, I could care less.

Right before me make our entrance into the Great Hall, the queen whispers to me, "In private, call me Hermione."

* * *

**Have some butterbeer while waiting for the next chapter! Reviews, rare and precious they are, I'll definitely appreciate them :)**


	5. Life at stake

**I wouldn't have got to Chapter 6 without the support of you readers, so thank you once again!**

**Who said being queen was easy...**

* * *

**Hermione**

I feel ridiculously happy, I can swear to God I have never felt this happy before. Even with Lady Ginny muttering under her breath about how half the court will think I am a traitor to the Gryffindor House, I still feel like dancing and singing and clapping my hands for sheer joy.

Draco (It suddenly seems too formal to call him just "duke") is sitting at a long table placed perpendicular to mine, which is located at the very front of the Great Hall and faces the two others.

In between bites of venison, I can see him sneaking shy glances up at me, surrounded by my most loyal courtiers who suddenly do not care about engaging me in conversation.

I hardly hear their muted, dissatisfied whispers complaining about my "outrageous behaviour".

Really, I think absentmindedly to myself, what can be so outrageous about a girl falling in love for the very first time?

"Maybe Gryffindor and Slytherin should call a truce, we could rule the kingdom as friends," I say later in the night, giddy from having drank goblet after goblet of the finest malmsey wine from the cellars and from having danced with Draco countless times.

My French hood is coming loose, but I do not bother about it. I can still feel Draco's eyes on me, the warmth of his hand on mine and a delicious mix of slight bemusement and pure bliss in his eyes as we danced to song after song.

How many times this evening I have wanted to tell him to forget about the deep divide between our houses I have lost count. In this moment, in all honesty, I would rather be a servant girl and happily run off with Draco than Queen of England, expected to be prim and proper and cruel towards the house of Slytherin.

"A truce, Gryffindor and Slytherin, a truce? The Slytherins, our friends?" One of my greatest companion and advisor, Duke Harry, stares at me as though I have just suggested that we all burn ourselves at the stake.

"With all due respect, Your Grace, have you lost your mind!" he continues, dark green eyes bulging as he stares at me furiously.

"No, I am serious," I start to speak, but am unable to raise my voice above the sudden uproar in the Great Hall.

I draw myself up to my full height and survey everyone in my presence. Even a fool can see that they are tremendously upset, no doubt about my suggestion.

"The Queen, how dare she! She is behaving like a traitor, intent on causing the downfall of the House of Gryffindor!" I hear a countess from a nearby seat say loudly, then glance nervously in my direction. I make sure I stare back at her with all the queenly presence I can muster.

She will pay, I think to myself, she will regret her careless words one day. I see her cower in her seat at the icy look I give her and a tiny wave of satisfaction washes over me.

But truth be told, I currently care more about dancing with Draco than what my courtiers think of me. I long to be the object of his affections, instead of seeing his loving gestures directed at his unloving, undeserving and ungrateful wife.

I think he loves me, I can sense the desire radiating from him as he danced with me and held me close on the pretext of some non-existent dance step. Even now, I can sense that his eyes are on me, taking in my every move.

How could it all happen so quickly? I wonder blissfully to myself. Reaching for my goblet, I realise that I do not care about how it happened, all I care about is that it is finally happening. Draco, the Slytherin duke, is finally falling for me. It is like a dream, a beautiful, beautiful dream.

"Your Grace!" I hear an urgent voice on my right belonging to Lady Ginny. "Our spy from the Slytherin household begs to see you. Immediately. "

Immediately, my heart fills with dread. If a spy wants to see me at this late hour, it can only be bad news, perhaps even horrific news.

I rise unsteadily to my feet, trying to straighten my French hood. I am pulled back rudely to reality as my duty as Queen confronts me.

"Tell the spy I will see him in my presence chamber back in my rooms," I say to Lady Ginny.

We sweep out of the Great Hall, my entourage of ladies-in-waitings behind me, but not before I give a little apologetic smile to Draco.

He looks crestfallen at my sudden departure, but what can I do? I am still Queen of England despite my love interests, and it is my duty to put my house's and my country's interests ahead of mine, no matter how reluctant I may be, no matter how much it hurts me to.

The moment I enter my presence chamber, the spy, a thin, sly man in his late twenties drops to his knees before me. His cheeks are flushed, his usually painfully neat hair in a mess.

"Rise. Quickly, tell me, what is it?" I command, trying my best to keep my fear under control. I seat myself on the nearest chair lest my legs give way under me, a growing dread rising in my belly.

The last time a spy requested the presence of my parents in the similar manner, he had also fallen on his knees in front of them, and it was to inform them of the greatest rebellion that England had ever know, staged by the Slytherin lords. I, a young girl of three at that time, had lost my parents in that rebellion.

"An uprising," the spy chokes, confirming my worst fears. "Forgive me, Your Grace, I caught wind of it too late. It is planned for the day after tomorrow, at the hour before dawn." He takes a great gasp of air and continues, "And this time, the Slytherin lords swear that they will not stop until they have you beheaded and a Slytherin king seats on the throne of England."

* * *

**Good luck, Queen Hermione.**

**And soon...the uprising begins! Do read on :)**

**Don't forget to write me a review if you enjoyed my story so far xx**


	6. Change of heart

**Bellatrix turns deadly when tempted with power while Draco and Hermione allow themselves to be led by their hearts deeper and deeper into the sticky web of forbidden love...**

* * *

**Bellatrix**

The queen has left so hurriedly that I cannot help but feel a little curious about the reason behind her abrupt departure.

For the past few hours, she has been dancing with my husband, the man I cannot put up with, but still unarguably my husband. And I will admit that I feel slightly bitter towards his sudden shower of affections on the queen.

It has to be something serious, I have seen her gaze at my husband, eyes full with adoration the whole night, it is unnatural that she will leave like this, leaving him behind almost like a spurned lover.

"Some more wine, perhaps, Your Grace?" An unfamiliar server approaches me with a pewter jug of the crimson liquid. I nod and just as he is filling up my goblet, he reaches inside his sleeves and deftly withdraws a folded piece paper within.

I do not have to look around me to be certain that my husband is still staring blankly at the doors that queen has just walked out of. The rest of the courtiers previously around us have already withdrawn for the night.

Heart pounding, I reach for the paper with trembling fingers. It is a hastily scribbled letter, addressed to me from Draco's father. I can just make out the Slytherin crest and the crest of the Malfoy family under my fingers. Why would the great duke choose me over his own son to do his bidding? I wonder.

Hastily, I fold the paper into quarters and hold it in my fist. "Goodnight, my lord husband," I murmur to the man sitting as still as a statue and no doubt filled with questions about the queen's sudden departure, and make my way to my rooms without a backward glance.

Safely in my bedroom, I dismiss all of my maids and ladies-in-waiting and unfold the paper hurriedly.

_Bellatrix,_

_It has come to my attention that my son, Draco has not been doing what I have entrusted him to do. This rather worrying revelation has forced me to turn to someone else whom I can trust to do the bidding of the House of Slytherin. You are loyal towards our house and I am assured by your parents that you will not let us down._

_An uprising against the Gryffindor queen is planned for the day after tomorrow at the hour before dawn. Stay alert, guard yourself well._

_We, the lords of Slytherin bid you do a task for us, for the benefit of our house. When the queen's advisors and soldiers ride out under her banner to attempt to put down the rebellion, we trust that she will be left behind and her defence greatly lessened._

_This will be the perfect time to dispose of her. Do not flee the estate when news of the uprising taking place reaches the ears of the Gryffindor court._

_We have a trained assassin in the queen's midst. Her name is Astoria. Seek her out, and when the time is ripe, give her the word, and she will kill the queen. Trust her, she is willing to die for the House of Slytherin._

_Take heart, and remember: if the queen is dead and her army defeated, you will be the future Queen of England._

_Your father-in-law_

I stare at the piece of paper in my hands, hardly believing what I am reading. I stagger to my bed and sink down onto it.

No, I cannot do this, it is impossible, I think, filled with shock and fear. I cannot order the death of a queen, no matter how much I hate her and her house.

But slowly, I come to my senses, and I feel a sly smile spreading across my face. Why not? All I have to do is give the word.

I see myself as Queen of England, the most coveted prize of them all, the crown, on my head. I see the cheering crowds, I hear them call my name over and over again, "Long live Queen Bellatrix!" I will be the greatest woman in the land.

So why not? I question myself maliciously. Yes, I can do this. Yes, I can order the death of the Gryffindor Queen. Yes, I can and will take her throne.

* * *

**Hermione**

I am feverishly scribbling away letter after letter, to the lords from all over England, begging them for troops and to defend me, their anointed queen.

The Slytherin lords will have no doubt converted the whole of the North to their cause, and the men of the North are known throughout the kingdom as the bravest, most valiant fighters in England. To have them against me is a low blow indeed.

The candles burn low in their holders as I write and write and write, chest tight with fear. I am only a sixteen year old girl, I think fearfully. A queen, yes, but still a sixteen year old girl. Why do I have to fight for my life so early in my reign?

Images from the night earlier flashes through my mind. Could it be even possible that I was dancing with the Duke whose father leads the uprising and wants me dead? I think to myself as I sign "Hermione, Queen of England" on yet another hastily crafted letter.

But try as I might, the images of Draco never tarnishes in my memory. I do not need to convince myself that he does not want me dead.

His adoring eyes and loving gestures are never far from my mind even as I scribble letter after letter in the hopes of defeating his cause.

I remember how he swept me high in the air, holding me up in his arms at the end of a dance, my feet making contact with only thin air. It was the most breath-taking sensation I have ever experienced. High up in the air, securely held in Draco's powerful arms, the rest of the indignant court seemed to fade away, leaving only him and me.

"You look even more beautiful up here, Your Grace," Draco had joked, his eyes glinting mischievously. But after he set me down, he whispered more seriously, "An angel, Hermione, you remind me of an angel."

How can I bring myself to believe that the man who had called me an angel only a few hours earlier wants me dead? It is absurd.

Just a few hours have changed everything for me. And somehow, I feel like I have known Draco all my life. Like the scores of lovesick maidens before me, I think that love can triumph over anything.

As the hours creep by, I have to fight to keep my eyelids open. My head aches and the words I am writing blur before my eyes.

"Get the queen some ale," I hear Lady Ginny's voice. I absentmindedly fantasise about what Draco and I could have been if our families were not deadly rivals.

If I manage to survive this uprising, I think to myself, I will make it my immediate goal to unify England...

"Let me in, let me in I say!" I hear a familiar male voice outside my chambers. His voice and the knowledge of his presence drives any rational thought from my head.

My head snaps abruptly back, all thoughts of sleep driven from my weary mind.

I make to get up and run to the doors, but Lady Ginny puts a restraining hand on my arm.

"Your Grace, if word gets out that you have kept the company of an enemy even after receiving news of the uprising, you will lose the respect of your courtiers as well as the entire House of Gryffindor." she says desperately.

I pay her words no heed and tug my arm from her grasp and stare at her coldly. "Draco Malfoy is my friend," I say.

I will not let anyone prevent me from talking to Draco. It is foolish of me, oh so foolish, but my heart, a force powerful enough to rival the greatest crusade, leads me step by step towards the doors, closer and closer to Draco.

Yes, he is from the House of Slytherin, but I know that he, like me, has no choice. Our positions in this world has been decided for us by our parents and the cold, cruel hands of fate.

"Release the duke, now!" I spit at the guards who have got hold of Draco and are holding him tightly between them, arms pinned to his sides, still struggling.

"Your Grace, he is the enemy of our people, and he is so bold as to try to break into your sacred rooms, he deserves to burn at the stake for his actions!" A guard replies, his shock evident on his face.

"I am the queen, how dare you challenge my orders," I say furiously. "Release the duke!"

The guards shoot each other a look of pure disbelief but they have no choice but to heed my order. They release Draco reluctantly and return to their posts.

I lead Draco into my presence chamber and we settle onto the seats nearest to the window.

"The uprising," I sob, my distressed mind getting the better of me. "The House of Slytherin plans to force me from my throne, your own father wants me beheaded-" tears drip from my eyes and onto the emblem of a lion on my gown.

"Hermione, dear Hermione, my dear queen," Draco reaches out for me and folds me into his arms, love and distress intermingled in his eyes.

"The plots of my father, I assure you I have no part in them," Draco says comfortingly as he strokes my back. I relax in his embrace. I knew it, I tell myself. Draco would not plot against me.

My pounding heart stills, my worries melt away and I find the solace that I have yearned for in Draco's arms. We stay that way, through the remaining hours of the night, all thoughts of the uprising pushed out of our minds for the time being.

* * *

**Nothing means more to a writer than a constructive/encouraging review, so please review! :)**


	7. Into the trap

**Yes, there are more Dramione moments in this chapter, so do enjoy!**

* * *

**Draco**

It is dawn when I stumble back to my rooms. The first rays of the rising sun are cruel reminders that in less than a day, the uprising will take place.

Hermione...she seemed so vulnerable, so desperately beautiful, so helpless in my arms, I do not think that I can bring myself to do anything to hurt her. To see the Queen of England in such a state breaks my heart and the sharp stab of anger I suddenly feel towards my house does not greatly surprise me.

I am hopeful that I might find solace in my bedroom, away from the vicious gossip guaranteed to spread throughout the court today from the most lowly servant to the queen's own kin.

But the moment the doors to my presence chamber swings open, my heart sinks as I catch a glimpse of a lone figure seated near the fireplace. Her dark hair spills forward onto her chest as she dozes but her head jerks up the moment I enter.

Mere weeks ago, I would have been overjoyed to see her in my presence chamber, but now I feel slightly ashamed and warning bells ring in my head. It can mean nothing good if Bellatrix Black has decided to pay a visit to my rooms.

She dips me the shallowest of curtseys, her accusing gaze never leaving my face as she says coldly, "So you have finally returned to your rooms, my lord husband."

I have no idea on how to reply her. The silence in the presence chamber grows oppressive and I clear my throat nervously.

Bellatrix smiles strangely, it is a smile that sends chills down the back of my spine.

"A letter came last night, from your father." Here she pauses, relishing the look of hurt that passes across my face that my father would turn to her, his daughter-in-law, instead of me, his own son.

My wife leans closer to me, though there is no one else in the deserted rooms. "Your father commands me to kill to queen," she whispers, the same bone-chilling smile playing on her lips.

"Imagine, if the queen were dead and the House of Gryffindor defeated, your parents would be King and Queen of England, and us their heirs." Bellatrix laughs, a frightening sound. I recoil from her, filled with horror.

How can it be, how can the seemingly charming and beautiful lady whom I begged my parents to let me marry turn out to be a...witch, a merciless, power-hungry witch?

With her cruel laughter, any remaining love that I have ever felt for her vanishes.

"Husband, are you not happy?" Bellatrix taunts me. "The queen will be dead and we will rule England in the near future. The house of Gryffindor will be dead along with her and when we wear the crowns on our heads she will be rotting in her grave!" she crows in a sing-song voice.

Every word she utters causes my blood to boil and I am standing still, trembling with rage, unable to escape as the witch circles around me, taking in every inch of my anger, enjoying the pain that she knows she is causing me.

"Or..." Bellatrix lowers her voice to a vindictive whisper again. "I know, you are in love with the Gryffindor queen, are you not? Is that not just so sad, a tragic love story-"

"Shut up!" I roar, my fury bursting forth from me like a tidal wave. I grab her face between my hands, my fingermarks bright red on her pale face.

I am filled with a violent desire to hurt her, hurt this witch who would take the life of my beloved without a second thought.

"You love Tom Riddle, do you not? The turncoat," I hiss, relishing the look of shock that passes across her face.

"You could not take your eyes off him, you foolish woman. Ever since I saw you staring at him when we were riding side by side, I knew something was out of the ordinary." The words which have been a thorn on my heart finally spills forth from the depths of my soul.

"I began to observe this man, and I recognised him as a stable boy in your father's house. Whenever he was around, you eyes would follow his every move, begging him to acknowledge your presence. But he is always surrounded by women, is he not? He has no need for you any longer. I dare say he has moved on." It is my turn to enjoy the unconcealed devastation on the face I once so dearly loved. I take a deep breath, ready to deal my final blow.

"Tom Riddle is to be married to one of the queen's ladies. It is said he loves her so dearly that he cannot bear to let her out of his sight." I loosen my hold on Bellatrix and as my anger ebbs away, her knees give way and she crumbles to the floor.

I see tears leaking from her close eyelids and for a moment I feel a hint of regret.

But the moment passes and I turn away. She asked for it, I tell myself. No one can threaten to harm the queen, my queen, and expect to get away scot-free.

Hermione's frightened honey-brown eyes flash in my mind, and I make a vow to myself that I will be her knight in shining armour, I will protect her and her throne, no matter what the cost may be.

* * *

**Hermione**

"Your Grace!" a pageboy bursts into my audience chamber where I am pacing anxiously, waiting for replies to my letters.

I look up and he hands me a bundle of letters, the replies. I tear them open, filled with hope and anticipation. Maybe I can be saved, I think, but as I scan through the letter I am holding, what little hope present in my heart drains away and is instead replaced by the horrible feeling of hopelessness.

I tear open one letter after another, they all contain bleak news. None of the lords can summon enough men for me in such a short notice. Only one county in the South can promise two hundred men, hardly substantial but that is all I have from the lords all over England. Pitiful indeed.

"Ale," I command, my voice shaking. A mug of the liquid is almost immediately passed to me and I sink down onto the chair at my desk.

"Two hundred men," I say hollowly. "Only two hundred men who are able to fight for our cause."

The eyes that meet mine around my chamber are incredulous, even outraged. But slowly, as the news sinks in, a look of sheer dismay replaces the outrage. We are greatly outnumbered and we are well aware of it.

A firm hand taps my shoulder and I turn around. It is Duke Harry, his face solemn.

"Your Grace," he whispers into my ear. "Perhaps it would be more...prudent to ensure your safety? I am sure Tutbury Castle, my home, will be more than honoured to host you until the danger has passed."

I pull away and stare into his face, trying to conceal my insulted feelings. A strange glint, one which makes me slightly uneasy, is in his eyes.

"And why would I want to abandon my court, especially in such a time of danger?" I demand, not bothering to keep my voice down.

Somehow, it does not seem right that I run away. And, a small voice reasons, Draco is still in this estate, still within reach. If you go to Tutbury castle, God knows when you can next see him...

"We will have all the troops we can muster sent here, Your Grace, you have no need for worry. Your safety is of the utmost importance. Without you, the House of Gryffindor will have no heir." Duke Harry continues in an urgent, persuasive tone.

"The duke is right, Your Grace, you have to go to Tutbury Castle, for the greater good of our house." Lady Ginny chimes in.

A fleeting look passes between Duke Harry and her, but I think nothing of it.

But Draco...Draco...I think in despair. Without me in the estate, his safety is under even greater threat from my lords.

Besides, we have just begun to know each other, we barely know each other, must we bid goodbye so abruptly and at such a dangerous time?

"For the good of the House of Gryffindor, you are strongly encouraged to go to Tutbury. It's just for a short while," Lady Ginny cajoles me, like a mother to a reluctant young child.

I take a deep breath, doing my best to push aside all thoughts of Draco. For my house, for my parents, I tell myself.

I force myself to nod, but still all I can think of is Draco and my impending separation from him.

"Good, good," Duke Harry is all smiles suddenly. "You shall leave tonight with only Lady Ginny. A carriage will be waiting for you at the foot of this Tower, I will come up to fetch you when it is ready."

After Duke Harry departs, I set my ladies-in-waiting the task of packing my bags for the journey and my stay at Tutbury while I slip away to find Draco.

There is nothing but shock on the faces of the guards at the threshold of Draco's rooms , but they bow deeply and open the doors without a word. After all, it is not every day a queen pays a visit to a member of a rival house in his rooms.

I locate Draco almost immediately in his presence chamber, leaning against the unlit fireplace, his face blank, lost in thought.

He glances up his unexpected visitor, and a look of unrestrained delight appears on his features as he sees me. And despite myself, I cannot help but return his smile.

Draco opens his arms, as if we were a couple married for many years, and I run into them, crossing the remaining distance between us as quickly as I can.

And then he is holding me to his chest, his arms once more secure around me, the comforting beat of his heart in my ear. If only we can put a hold on time, I catch myself thinking wistfully.

"Draco, I have to go to Tutbury castle," I say sadly, my voice muffled. "I have to, for the good of my house. But Tutbury is so damp, so lonely, and it's so far from here, from you," my voice breaks and I surrender myself to my tears once more.

"Darling, it will be alright, I am certain we will meet each other again before too long a time passes," Draco says consolingly, stroking my hair, but I can detect a note of reluctance and uncertainty in his voice.

"You are a queen, Hermione. It is not easy, but you were born to be queen. And you, as well as I, have to make the sacrifice to keep you on your throne," Draco smiles bitterly.

I know it is even harder for him. In trying to ensure my safety, he is going against his own house and his parents.

Draco lets go of me and takes a step back, placing his right hand over his heart.

"I am forever yours, Your Majesty," he pledges.

The solemnity of his address is not lost on me. I reach out for his hands and hold them in mine. "And I will always be your queen," I whisper. "No matter what happens."

* * *

**Hermione**

That night, I leave for Tutbury castle under cover of darkness, trusting Duke Harry that he has done what is best of our house.

I do not glance back as I leave. I do not see the triumph plastered all over Duke Harry's face, I do not see Draco's tear-stained one gazing out of his window, trying in vain to catch one last glimpse of me.

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**To be continued! Reviews keep me going, so do keep writing them :)**


	8. No longer queen?

**So here's Chapter 9, completed less than 24 hours after the previous chapter :)**

**Thank you all for the reviews, they keep me going! A special thanks goes out to Hannah. Your review really put a smile on my face and I will always remember and treasure it (Not that I will ever dare compare myself to J.K. Rowling though)**

**Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

**Bellatrix**

My husband returns to our rooms in the dead of the night, the moonlight streaming through the open curtains illuminating the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Your plan to kill her has failed, Bellatrix. The queen has gone to another castle to seek safety, and you have failed," he says in the darkness, a note of triumph present in his otherwise heartbroken voice, aware that I am awake.

It takes a moment for the duke's words to sink into my fuzzy mind, but when they do, I throw back my bed covers and glare at him.

"She would not," I begin, both distraught and in denial at the same time. "She is the queen of the House of Gryffindor, the house renowned for their courage. And she runs away, abandoning her court, like the lowliest of all cowards. I do not believe it."

My husband shrugs. "Believe what you want, my evil wife," he says nastily, and he climbs into bed without another word.

Before long, the duke has surrendered to sleep, albeit a troubled one, but I am still wide awake, my mind too active with plots for slumber.

I cannot fail my house, I tell myself again and again. My husband has already failed to play his part, and as his unfortunate wife I have to do my duty to make up for his lack thereof…

"Don't go to Tutbury, don't go, come back here, come back to me!" Draco cries out in his sleep all of sudden, his arms flailing wildly, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead.

"Hermione, Hermione…" he murmurs, almost incomprehensible. Then he takes a deep breath and rolls over to his side, clearly still fast asleep.

I feel a grin spreading across my face. Poor Draco, I think to myself. The poor duke who cannot even keep his thoughts to himself while at rest…

But what a stroke of luck for me!

Slowly, a plan formulates in my head. Like always, I think of Tom Riddle. I will risk it, just once, I tell myself. Somehow, somewhere, an instinct deep within me tells me that Tom is still loyal to me.

And being a fool of a girl blinded by love and heart break, I decide to follow that instinct.

* * *

**Hermione**

It is the day of the uprising, the dreaded day, the day that will determine so much.

I send out five pageboys in the early morning to scout for news. Then I wait impatiently, unable to sit still, walking around in circles in my small, dark audience chamber.

"Your Grace, I am sure the House of Gryffindor will emerge victorious." Lady Ginny tells me. I glance at her. Again, that strange look passes across her face. But it is gone within a moment. Maybe I imagined it, I tell myself, maybe I am just too nervous.

The sun is high in the sky before the first pageboy returns, red-faced and out of breath.

"What news?" I demand, striding across the room.

"If you will allow me, Your Grace, I would prefer to speak to you in private," the page boy says.

My voice seems to have left me, and my heart plummets to my stomach. I nod, struggling to keep my face impassive. If he wants to talk to me privately, it is no doubt bad news.

As soon as Lady Ginny and the rest of the maids attending me leave, the pageboy bows low and begins urgently. "The worst fear currently is not the House of Slytherin, but Duke Harry. He is planning to seize the opportunity that you are not with your court to turn your courtiers against you."

I can no longer control my stricken expression and it shows all over my face.

The pageboy drops to his knees. "Forgive me for being the messenger of such news, but Your Grace, you have to be strong, there is more to come."

I swallow and nod. My mind is in a turmoil, how can it be, how can my seemingly most loyal lord turn out to be the greatest betrayer of all? Not Harry, not my most trusted duke…my dear friend…

"The courtiers have signed a petition to have you removed as Queen," the pageboy's lips barely move. "The reasons being that you are too young and a female, and are unfit to rule. Furthermore, they accuse you of betraying the house of Gryffindor by conspiring in private with a Slytherin duke."

"And who do they want as King?" I ask, closing my eyes in distress.

"Duke Harry, they want to make Duke Harry king," he replies, the anguish on my face mirrored in his.

All other reactions fail me and I laugh hopelessly. It is not a happy sound, and the pageboy recoils from me. It is the sound of a woman who is stuck in a web of conspiracies so deep that she can do nothing to get herself out of it, it is the sound of a lost, hopeless girl who has just realised the cruel, ridiculous reality of the world.

"You may go," I say.

As he leaves my chamber, I hear him mutter to himself, "May the good lord bless the House of Gryffindor. For even in the most desperate of times, traitors still exist within our midst. Our disunity will be our downfall."

I gaze out of the window and across the gardens. Tutbury Castle, one of the houses belonging to Duke Harry, has become my prison.

And being the queen who foolishly trusted the words of others, I walked right out of the sanctuary of Draco's arms and into my prison cell.

I no longer care about the news concerning the uprising. I even catch myself wishing that the House of Slytherin will emerge as victors, then at least the traitor of all traitors, Duke Harry, will not seat on my throne or wear my crown.

Guilt seizes my heart as I realise that I have just wished my House to lose. But the guilt fades away almost immediately. I brush away all thoughts of my loyalty and focus instead on my heart and my freedom.

Draco will rescue me from here if his House wins, I am certain of that. He will be heir to the throne, the least he can do is to rescue me.

I close my eyes and shut out my surroundings. Everything that has been bothering me fades away as I picture us dancing together. I can hear the music so clearly, I can see Draco's exuberant smile on my face, his powerful arms once more lifting me high into the air, and his silky voice whispering romantic words in my ear. I can almost hear him saying, "Darling, did I not tell you that everything will turn out well?"

* * *

_**A few months later**_

**Hermione**

I stare at the stitching in my hands, the colours blurring in front of my tired eyes. Sleepless nights have become common for me. I am still here, still in this dreary prison, a captive of the traitor duke, or as he now calls himself, King of England.

The House of Gryffindor, led by Duke Harry and the forces he managed to gather, were indeed victorious against the House of Slytherin.

I hear the servants in this castle whispering in awe about the bloodbath on the battlefield of Derby, where the Duke fought long and hard, but I cannot bring myself to feel triumphant for him.

Would a captive feel triumphant for her captor? I think not.

Ever since that fateful day so many months ago when I left Draco, along with the rest of my court, I have not had any contact with him. I have tried sending letters, but I cannot even be sure that my letters have left this castle, much less made it into Draco's hands.

The usurper has spies everywhere, even within my midst, even when I was a queen among my courtiers.

Lady Ginny was one of them. She slipped away almost after we received news of the victory of our house.

Now, I hear she has married Duke Harry and is the Queen of England and has claimed everything that is rightfully mine.

There have been numerous attempts to poison me, even one attempt that a foolish boy by the name of Tom Riddle attempted.

It was indeed lucky that my cat knocked over the wine in my goblet and drank some before having a fit on the spot and dying. I shudder to think what might have happened if my cat had not unwittingly sacrificed her life for me.

As for Tom Riddle, my maids tell me that he was taken to the Tower of London for questioning. But even when the frustrated interrogators threatened to torture him, Tom would not reveal who had told him to perform the deed.

Every morning I stare at myself in my mirror and notice that I seem a little older, a little more tired than the day before. And I am not even twenty yet.

"My lady!" one of my maids, no doubt a spy devoted to Duke Harry, bursts into my room and addresses me. I have to grit my teeth to prevent the angry retort from bursting out.

It is no longer "Your Grace" for me, but "My lady". In the usurper's eyes, I am indeed no longer queen.

"The King is coming here to pay you a visit, two days from now," she says excitedly. "It is indeed an honour!"

The young girl quails under the cold stare I give her. She curtseys and backs out of my room.

I put down my sewing and walk over to my desk. Reaching under a bundle of cloth, I extract a stack of papers, some written on, but most blank.

They are letters addressed to Draco, or will be addressed to him. The letters will never be sent, I gave up sending letters to him after my fifth letter failed to receive a reply.

But every day, sometimes even several times a day, I pick up a pen and sit at my desk, beginning every letter with "Dear Draco".

It is the only way I manage to keep sane. I write every worry, every hope that I have for the future, all my anger and grievances on the paper. Every time I conclude with "Your loving Hermione", I always feel better.

Maybe someday, I think to myself, I will escape this prison and show my unsent letters to Draco.

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**So what do you readers think? Don't hesitate to tell me how you find the story so far! **


	9. Slytherin duchess through and through

**Once again, thank you all who have encouraged me to continue this story. I'm pretty sure that I would not have made it to chapter 10 without the support :')**

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**Draco**

I have lost my father, my uncle and the pride I have in my house along with the loss of my freedom. They all perished at Derby, where the House of Slytherin was humiliatingly defeated.

The Tower of London has been my home for the past few months, a haunted, dark and depressing place. The moment the House of Gryffindor claimed victory, the king ordered Bellatrix and me to be locked in here.

We were given rooms overlooking Tower Green, where traitors were beheaded. Our rooms are dark and filthy, not to mention small. There is nothing to do here except walk on the creaky floorboards around and around the room, encountering rats and mice in the meantime.

The only company I have is Bellatrix, though I would rather do without her presence. When she is not weeping, she is raging at me, like a lunatic.

Her eyes are becoming larger and larger, like dark hollows full of deep secrets and her cheekbones are becoming more and more pronounced as she eats lesser and lesser every day and slowly wastes away.

But every day, the first thought on my mind when I wake up in this bleak place is of Hermione.

Is she well at Tutbury, I wonder. Is she even alive? I think with a shudder. It would be so simple for the King to order her poisoned and pass off her death as a tragic illness.

The traitor, how dare he even call himself king! I think with a flash of anger. The throne is rightfully Hermione's, it is her birthright, not a piece of gold that can be stolen.

Every day, I wake up with fresh plans to plot and escape from this place, but the guards are as unyielding as the dark stone walls surrounding me. Even after offering them gold and jewels, they do not agree to let their guard down for a moment and let me slip out.

The days grow longer as my stay in the Tower lengthens.

Will I die here? I wonder. Will the king order me beheaded on some nonsensical charge?

Thoughts of ending my life at my own hands are never far from my mind. It would be so simple to end the captivity that I am stuck in and escape from the torture and oppressiveness of the Tower.

But whenever these thoughts surface, so does Hermione's sweet face.

We have had so little time together and it does not seem right to leave her on her own in the cold, cruel place that England has turned out to be.

I will restore her to her throne, I vow to myself, I will see her as queen again and I will rescue her from the clutches of the usurper.

We will be united and on the same side this time, I will never be on her opposing side again, I swear vehemently.

And so every day I walk around and around the same room, on the same creaky floorboards and formulate fruitless plans to free myself and Hermione.

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**Bellatrix**

Tom Riddle is arrested, my dear Tom, and it is all my fault.

He is in the same building that I am imprisoned in, and he is no doubt being questioned, maybe even tortured, all because he willingly agreed to pay a visit to Tutbury Castle personally and ensure that the then-queen was poisoned.

All because he still had enough love in his heart for me to agree to undertake such a risky endeavour. But look where that love took him?

On the rare occasion that I manage to sleep, it is a troubled one and nightmares of Tom being tortured for information plagues me. Sometimes, I can even hear his screams of pain in my dreams.

Tonight is one of the nights whereby I wake up from a nightmare of Tom, feeling as though I have been tortured myself. Certainly, images of Tom's pain is torture enough for me.

I sit up straight in bed, fresh tears leaking from my eyes. These days, sorrow and pain is prevalent in England.

The full moon visible from between the half-drawn curtains fills me with a certain kind of longing.

In what seemed like lifetimes ago, it was under cover of darkness, and under the benevolent light of the moon, that Tom and I had met, in silent corners, in dark, deserted corridors. Those meetings had been what I lived for.

And I remember very clearly; the first time Tom had kissed me had been under the glow of the full moon.

I sigh and stare blankly into space. I am not a witch like my husband made me out to be, I am only a young, heartbroken girl. Yes, I would have killed the then-queen if I had a chance, but it was only for the good of my House...

"Your Grace,?" a groggy voice calls out to me in the darkness.

I jump, drawn out of my pondering. "What is it, Pansy?" I ask my maid, the owner of the voice, rather crossly.

"Tom," her tone now takes on an excited lilt. "Tom is here to see you." She walks over to my side of the bed quietly but quickly.

"He came, Your Grace, he came. But beg your pardon, you have to hurry, Tom came to you secretly, you don't have much time with him" Pansy says, as she helps me down from my bed and hands me a shawl.

I smile for what feels like the first time in weeks. Besides me, Pansy, my most loyal maid since I was a child, shares my joy.

Throwing a glance back to my sleeping husband, I am relieved to note that he is a heavy-sleeper and immune to minor disturbances.

"Tom, I am so glad to see you again!" I cry out the moment I set eyes on him.

Tom seems older than when I last saw him, lines which were previously non-existent are now present on the features that I know so well.

"Ah, Bellatrix, my dear-" is all Tom manages before I launch myself into his arms, never wanting to let go.

Suddenly, I remind myself that Tom would have been married by now and with all the willpower I can muster, I untangle my arms from around him.

"My wife abandoned me the moment I was arrested," Tom says with a bitter smile, as if reading my thoughts. "My wife was disloyal and ran off with another man, leaving me as if our marriage vows meant nothing at all."

I reach out for his hand, wanting nothing more than to share his load and be by his side.

"I still love you Bellatrix, despite everything, I still do," Tom pauses and smiles wanly. "I often questioned myself in the long days that followed my arrest in the bleakness of the Tower. There was only one reason why I was willing to put my life at stake and betray my house and even my queen," Tom clasps my hands in his and we sit side by side in the darkness, and for the first time in a long while, I feel at peace.

But a small, nagging part of me refuses to surrender to the blissfulness of the moment. The Slytherin monster within me reminds me of the last words my father-in-law, the head of my house, ever told me.

I was to kill the queen. Even now, when the uprising has failed so badly, I still feel that it is my duty to kill the queen. Even if it may seem insignificant now, I still want to fulfil my duty.

Tom notices the expression on my face. "What is it, Bellatrix?" He asks, concerned.

I take a deep breath and turn to face him. I have to take a gamble that he loves me enough to turn against his house yet again.

The fatigue on Tom's face tears away at my heart as well as my conscience, but I press on. After all, I am a true Slytherin at heart and my loyalty to my house comes first and foremost, above everything else.

Yes, I am truly sorry that I have caused so much suffering for Tom, and it pains me greatly to have to make the same request of him, but my duty as a Slytherin duchess comes first. That has been drilled into me since I was a child. Despite my heartache, I have to press on.

Turning to Tom, I murmur, trying to force a smile onto my face, "Will you help me to do one more favour, just one more favour?"

Tom stares at me suspiciously, it is clear that he knows what I am up to.

"I need you to help me kill the queen," I breathe, trying my best to charm him into doing my bidding again, yet hating myself as I do so.

"Bellatrix!" Tom says, with a note of anger in his tone, dropping my hands. "Surely you do not expect me to go through this...nightmare again, or perhaps worse?" he gestures to his wasted form.

"Yes, I love you, but have you not considered that what you ask of me is too much?" Tom continues. "I am loyal to the House of Gryffindor now, no longer belonging to the House Slytherin, surely you must understand that?" His tone softens and he looks at me almost pleadingly.

When he sees that I have no response, he says quietly, almost to himself, "I did the favour you begged of me the first time because I love you and felt guilty for marrying another woman instead of you."

Tom pauses and lowers his voice so that even in the silence, I have to strain to catch his words. "But my love does not stretch so far as to attempt such a traitorous deed to my house again. My loyalties are no longer the same as yours. I am sorry, Bellatrix."

"If you are not for my house and my cause, then I cannot love you," I hear myself say coldly, all the warmness between us gone like a candle snuffed out.

I push aside all other thoughts and rise to my feet, numbness taking the place of the love that I felt for Tom.

The Slytherin duchess within me speaks again. "I must invite you to take your leave and never return again. I cannot keep those who are loyal to the House of Gryffindor by my side."

All this time, I have told myself that deep down, Tom Riddle was still loyal to me above all, but I am evidently mistaken.

"Bellatrix!" The wounded cry leaves Tom's lips as he stares at me as though he does not recognise me.

"Leave now," I repeat myself, not looking at him, as emotionless as the wooden floorboards under my feet.

As he leaves, the man who meant so much to me looks back and gives me the saddest look I have ever seen.

But still, I do not cave in, I do not call him back and run into his arms, I do not break down and cry anymore. I stand tall and firm, the heiress of the House of Slytherin.

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**It's amazing because I actually have some idea where this story is headed (I usually don't plan my fanfics...) ****This one's the exception!**

**I know all you Dramione shippers are desperate for more Dramione moments but be patient, good things come to those who wait**

**And the usual plea for reviews...but seriously, they are essential to a writer ;)**


	10. Of dreams and foreshadowing

**I probably should have included this in my first chapter but anyway, just in case any of you readers somehow think I'm J.K. Rowling...(though I think it's more possible that I'm married to Johnny Depp...)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story. *sobs* **

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**Hermione**

"The King of England has arrived, My lady," one of my maids tell me as I am at my desk and I scramble to cover what I am writing.

"Perhaps we should go and meet him," she continues, seeing that I am making no intention of getting up from my seat.

I shake my head and wait for her to step away from me and leave my rooms, no doubt gone to tell the rest of the household what a rude woman I am, refusing to welcome the king along with the rest of his subjects.

Picking up my pen again, I continue the letter I am working on. "Draco," I write, "My captor is now back in his house, my prison. What should I do, how should I behave towards him? I do not know what I should expect...oh Draco, though I might not show it, fear is gripping my heart and tightening it's hold on my chest this very moment."

Slowly, I let my worries seep out of me onto the paper on the desk, and just as I am slotting the paper back under the bundle of cloth, my ears sharpen as I pick up hasty, heavy footsteps sounding from the corridor outside my rooms, growing louder and louder as it approaches my door.

I jump up and smoothen my hair, just in time to whirl around and face the King of England striding into my rooms, a satisfied smirk playing upon his lips.

"Well well, how is my dear friend Lady Hermione doing?" Harry asks, his tone heavy with sarcasm as he drops himself onto the nearest chair and gazes at me standing upright and stony.

He leans towards me, "Manners, Lady Hermione, manners, surely you know how to behave towards a king?" Clearly the traitor is enjoying himself, not having to bow to my every wish and even being able to command me, the rightful queen.

The seconds tick painfully by and the tension in the room is palpable as the King piereces me with those emerald-green eyes of his.

And slowly, I have no choice but to grit my teeth and sink into a curtsey, hating myself for acknowledging the usurper as king.

So this is how it feels, I think to myself, this is how it feels to be humbled and forced to show obeisance to your enemy. And fleetingly, I remember the brief look of resentment that was on Draco's face as he bowed to me the first time we met as rivals.

We have tasted the bitterness of defeat and Fortune's Wheel has brought us down to the dust. We are no longer rivals, but equals in the face of defeat.

The satisfied smile widens on the turncoat's face and he gestures to me to sit with a superior motion of his hand.

"I trust life here has been...satisfactory?" Harry asks, snickering to himself.

I cannot believe it, I do not recognise the man in front of me at all. A spasm of pain passes through my heart and I fight hard to keep it off my face. Is this really him, once my dearest childhood friend? I only see a monster in front of me.

"I am a captive here in your castle." I steady myself and continue, "You sly usurper led me here, tricked me to walk into your prison and took what is rightfully mine, and now you dare to talk to me."

The king flicks me a lazy smile and holds up a hand to stem my furious tirade against him.

"Not so fast, Lady Hermione. I only did what I thought best for my country. Clearly, the Slytherin duke was playing with your heart and manipulating you, causing danger for the House of Gryffindor." Harry twists a ring on his finger before continuing.

"For instance, what if you had made the duke King consort? But nevermind all that now. The Slytherin duke and his wife are locked in the Tower of London, and I will make sure they will never walk free again." he finishes off, observing my reaction closely.

"How could you," I spit, eyes flashing. "Even after the uprising you still do not want unity in England. You want us to be divided, to be weakened against foreign powers."

The king sits up straight and observes me closely. "So, it is true, you do love him," he says softly, challenging me, expecting me to deny it.

But I cannot. My dry tongue and lips cannot form the words, the lie that I am supposed to utter. How can I say that I do not love Draco when even right now, every part of me yearns for him and craves for his touch?

"Rest assured that you will never see him again, Lady Hermione," Harry stands up with a queer look of triumph on his face.

"Why do you do this to me?" I choke out. "You were my most trusted friend, my most valued advisor."

"Power changed me, Hermione. Being King was too good an offer to resist." he whispers quietly, almost to himself. "And I will never allow anyone to threaten my throne, including you, especially you."

Harry raises his voice. "I cannot allow you to live in these rooms anymore. The cost to keep you and your maids is simply too high. I am afraid that I will have to move you to somewhere more...convenient."

Before I can react, the betrayer snaps his finger and calls out in a voice devoid of any regret, "Guards! Arrest this woman! She is guilty of conspiring with a member of the House of Slytherin when she was queen, with no regard for the house she was leading."

Two guards grab hold of me and in the ensuing struggle, the French hood on my head comes loose. I am bizarrely reminded of the night I danced with Draco and the same thing occurred.

"You are queen Hermione, never surrender your pride!" Draco's voice rings out as resonant and clear as it did that night I left my court.

Yes, I tell myself. I am a queen, a queen without her crown and her throne, but still a queen.

Taking a deep breath, I stop struggling and address the guards gripping onto me with all the dignity I can muster, "Let go of me, have you forgotten that a queen's body is sacred?"

My words do the trick and the guards exchange a glance and meekly let go of me.

Harry observes the spectacle without a word and after a long pause, says in a steely voice, "Bring the prisoner to the dungeons, and let me warn you, if she escapes, I will personally ensure that both of you take her place in prison."

And with that threat hanging in the air, he sweeps out of my rooms, not bothering to throw another glance at me.

"I will take my throne back, one day I will," I say with certainty, though I do not believe my own words.

"One day I will be queen again and Draco will be my king, and you, Harry, will regret everything you have said and done to both of us," I raise my voice to make sure the pretend-king hears every word I say.

I walk out of my rooms and though I am sandwiched between two guards, my head is head held high, like the queen I was born to be.

It does not occur to me to turn back, and it is only much later that I hear from one of my maids that when I left the room, all the maids present curtsied deeply to my departing back, as they would to a reigning queen.

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**_One week later_**

**Hermione**

I go to bed as usual in my lonely cell in my narrow bed, which is, if possible, even colder than my previous one.

"Goodnight, my lady" whispers the solitary maid attending to me as she blows out the candles and settles down onto the thin mattress on the floor besides me.

I close my eyes but I do not expect to enjoy the luxury of sleep.

But before I know it, I am in the midst of a dream so real that I believe that it is no longer just a dream, but a foreshadowing of some sort, or an omen.

I am standing with a crowd of people who all seem to be gathered for an occasion, a joyous celebration of some sort. But no, I look closer and realise that the crowd has parted and created some sort of pathway between them.

Cheers of "Long live the queen!" and "Long live the king!" ring in the air and a young boy near me scatters flower petals onto the cobblestones. It is with a jolt that I realise that I am part of a crowd gathered to line the streets for the coronation of a king and queen.

The clatter of horses' hooves on the ground grows louder and louder and I crane my neck along with the rest of the people gathered, trying to catch a glimpse of the royal couple.

Who can they be? Even in my dream, I am burning with curiosity to know.

The procession gets nearer and I catch sight of the queen, regal and graceful on her mount. Her bushy brown hair is familiar and the way she waves her hand even more so. The queen's head turns to my direction and I stifle a little gasp as I see her face.

It is me, the queen is me.

"She is beautiful, is she not?" The countrywoman cradling her baby in her arms asks me with a smile, misinterpreting my gasp.

"I am her, she is me, I am the queen!" I babble, unable to control my shock and delight.

The countrywoman's brows furrows. "Perhaps you are overwhelmed by the day's events sweetheart, I don't think you're Queen Bellatrix."

"Queen Bellatrix?" I whip around and take another look at the queen.

Yes, it is Bellatrix, there is no mistaking her wild tangle of black curls and her deathly pale skin.

"But...but it was me...I am sure you saw her, she looked exactly like me," I stutter. I can swear to God the queen was me, but why has the queen changed to Bellatrix?

"Ah, we all wish we were the queen, don't we?" The woman smiles understandingly at me. But no, she does not understand, I do not simply wish I were the queen, I _am_ the queen.

I turn away from the crowd and stumble away.

The scene around me seems to be fading away and all of a sudden, a shudder runs through me as I realise that the previous scene I was part of has now disappeared and a much more somber mood is in the air.

It is an execution scene I am part of. There is a stage set up in the front of this crowd and the dreaded executioner's block is on it. Around me, some women have fell to their knees and are looking up to the heavens, mumbling prayers through the tears coursing down their faces.

There are boos in the crowd as I see a woman led out. Even so far from the stage, I can sense her fear and helplessness.

But I feel a tiny jolt of triumph within me as I recognise the woman's wild, black hair and sharply defined cheekbones. So Bellatrix will be executed, I think to myself.

Then I blink, and to my horror, the black hair has vanished along with the formidable figure. And in it's place is me.

The stricken horror is written all over my features and I see the white cloth being tied over my eyes. Then I see myself kneeling in the straw, hands groping blindly for the block.

Terror fills me, the excitement that I had felt when I saw myself as queen has long since evaporated.

I feel the bitter taste of bile rising in my throat and I lower my head, unable to continue watching.

"My lady, my lady!" my eyes fly open and I somewhat relax as I take in my dark surroundings in my cell. "You were screaming in your sleep, and you were thrashing about wildly, my lady. Would you like me to call for a physician?" My maid asks anxiously.

"No, no, I am perfectly fine, just a passing nightmare," I try my best to reassure her, wiping the sweat off my brow.

It does not take much to reassure my maid, and in minutes, I can hear her snores once again.

What does it mean? I think to myself in the darkness, all thoughts of sleep driven from my mind. The dream is too real, too vivid, for me to simply pass it off as nothing but a dream. It is a foreshadowing of some sort, I can feel it in my bones.

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**Hope you all readers enjoyed this chapter! And yes, it is slightly longer than usual. Do keep the reviews coming in, I keep writing because of them, honest :)**


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